Sex, sex, and rock'n'roll

Because I think it's such fun that women are only featured in hard rock magazines if they're hot (eg, Revolver's annual "Hottest Women In Metal!" issue), I am going to objectify every male metal artist whom I consider attractive. Consider yourself warned. Also, I encourage everyone to also read my own post about the hot women of metal. We are equal opportunity objectifiers here.

10. Bjorn Gelotte. Guitarist for In Flames. Originally the group's drummer, Gelotte now wields his axe in all directions and sports an interesting twist on heavy metal follicular fashion: close-cropped noggin, hefty beard. Looks good to me!

9. Kiki Loureiro. Guitarist for Angra. Jesus H., does this guy look like a model or what? He's so pretty, he almost didn't make the list. Then I remembered his guitar chops and reconsidered. Dude can shred and has insanely Pre-Raphaelite hair. Doubleplusbonus!

8. Oliver Palotai. Keyboardist for Kamelot. Maybe it's unfair to have more than one member of the same band on a list, but it's their fault for having more than one ridiculously attractive member. The very Germanic-looking Palotai, unfortunately, is involved with the equally gorgeous Simone Simons (to the despair of everyone everywhere who has eyes), but that does not mean we can't enjoy his lean mean keyboarding arms and well-conditioned hair.

7. J.D. Cronise. Guitarist and lead vocalist for The Sword. Certainly one of the better doom metal vocalists, and attractive in a way rather similar to Dan Watchorn (see Number Two), Cronise makes the list chiefly for his skillz at dropping lyrical hints to literature, including nods to George R.R. Martin, H.P. Lovecraft, Arthur C. Clarke, and Norse mythology.

6. Janne Wirman. Keyboardist for Children of Bodom and Warmen. Good-looking in that clean, Nordic way, and a little calmer than his manic bandmates, you also gotta figure that as far as musicians go, groupies aren't too interested in the guy behind the keyboard (unless that guy is our Number Eight). So all love for this list's resident elf impersonator, Janne Wirman.

5. Henrik Danhage. Guitarist for Evergrey. Homeboy's got all the metal good looks: long hair, an acceptable beard, plenty of tattoos, soulful eyes. Okay, maybe that last bit isn't the norm, but it works for him, particularly when he's ripping your ears out with his guitar.

4. Steven Wilson. Porcupine Tree's lead singer and guitarist. Far too often heavy metal dudes follow a pattern--lots of hair, lots of leather--which is by no means bad, but can get old after a while. For the nerd girls in the bunch, Wilson is here for all your underwear emergencies with his stylin' wire-rim glasses and Cromwellian bob haircut. He also often plays barefoot, which is kinda cute, and makes music to fuck with your head to!

3. Mikael Akerfeldt. Singer and guitarist for Opeth and vocalist for Bloodbath. This guy's prowess with both death metal and clean vocals, as well as his flowing locks and stellar facial hair, cements his status as one of heavy metal's hottest dudes. The fact that Metalocalypse's Toki Wartooth is based on Akerfeldt doesn't hurt either.

2. All of Priestess, especially Dan Watchorn. Hot in a hairy, Canadian way--lots of beard!--these guys rock. Hard. Mikey Heppner's rocky-road vocals might not be guaranteed to make you come in the way of our Number One but it's still pretty sexy (in a hoarse, Canadian way).

1. Roy Khan. Past singer for Conception, current (and, presumably, future) singer for Kamelot. Trained as an opera vocalist, so you know he's got pipes. Also, rockin' bod much? Yes please. It's too bad he's married, but really, no one thinks about that when he's working up a sweat and straddling microphones onstage.
Honorable Mentions: Dave Mustaine (Megadeth), Tore Ostby (Conception, Ark), and Gabriel Garcia (Black Tide...jailbait FTW).

Charge of the Goddess

For an academic side-project--'cause graduate school just doesn't give enough homework!--I've been researching Goddess religion in historical and contemporary contexts. This means scouring the university and public libraries for all the classic texts on neo-Pagan and Wiccan revivals, including Starhawk's The Spiral Dance, and Drawing Down the Moon by Margot Adler. Drawing Down the Moon in particular is an excellent text, which has survived the test of time far better than Starhawk's book (it helps that it was updated and re-released last year), and is more interested in the sociology, anthropology, and psychology of Paganism, rather than providing a witches' handbook or how-to guide. Adler is sympathetic to the Pagan movements, as she considers herself a Wiccan, and though this is clear to the reader, scholarly research and varied viewpoints balance the text.

Thus far, it seems that Goddess religions in general and Wicca in particular are not exactly what I thought. I confess, I'm a fan of The Craft, Charmed, Practical Magic, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and while all are good in their ways, none come terribly close to depicting the point of Wicca or the traditions as they stand today. It is easy to be drawn in by candles and incense, ceremonial garments and daggers, lovely chalices, hand-crafted wands, moonlight rituals, and altars or shrines to ancient goddesses--and while what Adler calls the "trappings" of Wicca are significant, she emphasizes, as do many of the Craft interviews throughout the book, that the items used in ritual are symbols. Isaac Bonewits in particular has noted that physical symbols such as pentacles, incense, and lighted candles are useful for instigating and maintaining altered states of consciousness, which is one of the intents of Wicca: to open and broaden the mind in order to perceive truths which a person might not otherwise be attuned to. Much of what is termed "magic" is done by the mind; methods for honing, conducting, and releasing this magic include forms of yoga and Reiki, meditation, hypnosis and trance, and dancing (and some Wicca do advocate the responsible use of hallucinogens, though I'm not certain how widespread this is).

What really stood out to me, though, is not the physical, rational explanations for magic or for the pursuit and practice of magic. The point Adler makes that struck me is that a Wicca practitioner can worship the Goddess without belief--the "religion" (though as I read more, the more I tend to view Wicca as a group of "traditions"; covens and circles are autonomous, following no set liturgy and having very loose group structures, depending on which path they follow, and the bulk of Wiccans in North America are solitary) leapfrogs out of any sort of conflict with "faith" as it is used by most mainstream religions today. Wicca allows for atheism, polytheism, monotheism, pantheism, agnosticism, and secular humanism; it does not grate on intellectuals, people who are hard scientists, or people who consider themselves Christians or Jews. The worship of goddesses is flexible enough to allow nearly any mode of thought or belief, or none at all. I find that this goes back to the significance of symbols within Wicca--the Goddess may be viewed literally, as an Earth Mother figure, or she may be seen as an archetype of and for powerful women throughout history, and a practitioner may worship the idea of her, rather than using prayer and supplication in more mainstream ways. The ideal of the Goddess is appealing to men and women who desire strong, intelligent, sensitive, self-possessed and self-controlling female models; the thorny question of historical goddess worship and matriarchal societies is not really a question for debate at all once you take the view that the concept of a goddess religion is what many Wiccans are interested in. To be sure, there are many reconstructionist paths and some traditions which hold to be gospel-truth that at some point in human history there was indeed a Golden Age of Goddess religion, but the thing about Wicca is that a practitioner is not required to subscribe to ANY of these ideas. If a person is drawn to the archetypal Goddess as an icon or avatar of themselves, or what they could become, and looks upon worship of the Goddess as a way to a more enlightened mind, a more open soul, a more responsible, responsive, thoughtful, and fulfilled life, then that is what Wicca will provide.

I guess my point is that there is no need and no call to look on the Goddess as the literal creator of the Earth, as there is in Christianity. For many, the Goddess is an ethereal concept of higher thought, not an actual being, and so rather than restricting practitioners to worrying about what she is up to and whether or not their actions please her, and if she supports the Republicans or the Democrats in the upcoming election, followers of Wicca are free to form her as they will and utilize what she represents to achieve spiritual experiences.

Wicca and other neo-Pagan traditions are by far the most sympathetic religious paths I have encountered thus far.

Cool Jew

Okay, okay, you asked for it and here it is: My Favorite Jews.

Fran Drescher
Andy Samberg
Jon Stewart
Jeff Goldblum
Eve Ensler
Willow Rosenberg
Tevye
Josephus
J. Robert Oppenheimer
Zac Efron
Herschel Krustofsky
Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Sacha Baron Cohen
Al Franken
Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Barabbas
Jake Berenson
Fagin
Amber Benson
Adam Goldberg
Judy Blume
Andrea Dworkin
Moon Knight


You might be interested to know that about half the starring or supporting cast of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is Jewish, including Amber Benson, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Alyson Hannigan, Michelle Trachtenberg, Seth Green, and Danny Strong. Jesus Christ!

Just sayin'

The good, the bad, and...well, there's just the two today

The Good:

Drag Me To Hell, Sam Raimi's new flick, is good. Seriously good. Not as good as the Evil Dead trilogy (because really, what is?), but leagues better than, say, Spider-Man 3. The Chin does not make an appearance, but that sweet Oldsmobile does, and who can possibly complain about an ancient Gyspy crone cursing Alison Lohman's cute little blonde Aryan self? Justin Long is charming as always, and it's frankly nice to see a caring, devoted, trustworthy boyfriend in a horror film, isn't it? Furthermore, as in the case of Ash, Lohman's character reaches a certain point in her harrowing now-demon-cursed life where the getting flung around the kitchen and being used as a teething ring by said ancient Gypsy crone just becomes TOO MUCH--as, I venture, it would in reality--and she starts fighting back (hint: it involves a kitten!). And therein lies the glory of Raimi's films: they push the hero/ine so far that eventually the character becomes, not quite a villain, but an anti-hero/ine. Watching this movie, half of you wants Lohman to escape the curse and the other half is almost glad when she does get dragged to Hell, and that's reality for you; how far can the survival instinct go before the person trying to survive turns into a self-serving asshole and slaughters kittens, debates whether or not to curse a dying old man with a nebulizer, robs graves? Drag Me To Hell, like most of Raimi's horror films, examines the line between physical and spiritual/personal preservation.

The Bad:

Terminator Salvation, the newest installment in the Ah-nuld robot vehicle, is bad. Really bad. And what's worse is that it has potential, but staunchly refuses to exploit it. I went in expecting that Marcus, the cyborg character, would be the fulcrum of the story, the turning point of the war between the machines and the humans--plainly, the future: that the film would acknowledge humanity's debt to and reliance on machines, and would find a workable future in hybridization. Nope! Instead, the movie may be summed up as "the difference between us and the machines is the beating of the human heart" (and if you want to hear that in Christian Bale's Batman voice, so much the better). Backward! Hypocritical! In short, so ten years ago. Salvation is a sad entry into the Terminator canon, marginally better than T3 but so much less than the first two. Skip it and reread Donna Haraway's "Cyborg Manifesto" instead.

It's finally time

Yes, children, the hour has arrived: your faithful author has decided to undertake the CDAB: the Comprehensive Disney Assessment Blog. Over the course of this post, I will lay out once and for all my personal favorite Disney films.

The films will be divided into four subcategories: Classic Disney, Modern Disney, Weird/Forgotten Disney, and Live-Action Disney, with each subcategory containing my top five films. Let's go!

Classic Disney (1930s-1960s)
1. Fantasia (1940)
2. Peter Pan (1953)
3. Lady and the Tramp (1955)
4. The Sword in the Stone (1963)
5. Sleeping Beauty (1959)


Modern Disney (1970s-present)
1. Robin Hood (1973)
2. The Rescuers (1977)
3. Beauty and the Beast (1991)
4. Lilo and Stitch (2002)
5. The Emperor's New Groove (2000)


Weird/Forgotten Disney (any era)
1. Pete's Dragon (1977)
2. A Goofy Movie (1995)
3. James and the Giant Peach (1996)
4. The Three Caballeros (1945)
5. The Great Mouse Detective (1986)


Live-Action Disney (any era)
1. Cool Runnings (1993)
2. Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971)
3. The Parent Trap (1961)
4. Mary Poppins (1964)
5. The Mighty Ducks (1992)


Whew. That was tough. Really, really tough. You have no idea. Disney is awash in great films that I left out--Mulan, Hercules, The Black Cauldron, Cinderella, the third Aladdin. The remake of Freaky Friday was honestly pretty good. The Fox and the Hound, Piglet's Big Movie, and of course the mighty Toy Story franchise...clearly I should have made the lists longer. Le sigh.

Jesus is always the answer--what is the question?

Questions to which 'Jesus' could conceivably be the answer:

+Who is the current president of the United States?
+Who is the missing fifth Baldwin brother?
+Who is your asshole father who sold you to some redneck in a trailer outside Biloxi for a case of Busch Lite twelve years ago?
+Who is Kanye West?
+Who was the fifth Beatle?
+What do you say at fiveAM when you stub your toe while trying to let the dog out?
+Who owes the thirteenth apostle twelve bucks?
+What is the average flight velocity of an unladen swallow?
+Who is L. Ron Hubbard's father?
+Which has a longer coastline, Jutland or the Yucatan?
+Who does a really good Gandhi impersonation?
+Who created the Salk polio vaccine?
+Who shot J.R.?
+Who shot JFK?
+Who wrote The Female Eunuch?
+What does Foucault's pendulum show?
+In what region of the world can the nua-nua bird be found?


Question to which 'Jesus' is definitely not the answer:

+Who is the son of God?

Blue balls

No, no, my significant other does not suffer from any sexual dysfunction involving testicles (I make sure of that, ha-cha cha-cha). However, I have to admit I was left wanting more by Watchmen.

(Plus, hello, did you see Doc Manhattan's junk enough? No? Eighteen penis shots in one film just not enough?)

I love the graphic novel, and I wanted to love the movie--I mean, hell, I went to see it at midnight in IMAX; I wanted it to be another slam-dunk along the lines of 300. Maybe mythologizing history works better when that history is already half-myth, or maybe the graphic novel of Watchmen is simply more complex than 300--duh--but something about this film experience left me cold. Visually it's amazingly evocative of a graphic novel, and the fight scenes are intense, the soundtrack is fun, the opening credits are full of information and simultaneously enjoyable to watch, the casting is mostly good (particularly The Comedian)...so what's the problem?

No idea. Maybe too much of Billy Crudup's dick. Maybe too much of Matthew Goode's bronzer, Malin Akerman's hair, Patrick Wilson's aviator eyeglasses and impotence. Maybe too much reverence--that might be it. So faithful an adaptation leaves you with an embalmed feeling.

After a few days' thought:

I have decided that my main problem with this movie is not that it's too close to the graphic novel, but rather that it doesn't necessarily pick out the points of the novel which are most salient and most critical to understanding what Watchmen is all about. I mean, Nite Owl and Ozy and all the rest AREN'T superheroes. THAT is the point that it seems like Snyder and Co. didn't get, and which does not translate onto the screen.

Bad day

#s 383, 384 of Things Which Piss Diana Off:

-the sudden plethora of goddamn blow job songs (I'm looking at you, "Addicted", "Crazy Bitch", and all versions of "Lollipop"). I like oral as much as anyone, but srsly. The "it's only hot if I'm shoving her head down" meme is sick.

-people who mix up "white elephant" and "Secret Santa" parties. This is what comes of being functionally illiterate.

Let my dreams unfurl

I had the intense, nearly orgasmic, pleasure of seeing Kamelot live once more recently, and something occurred to me: one or more of the band members have a real problem with God, or at least organized Western religion.

Which is fine by me, but I sort of wonder why it's taken me so long to notice, especially if you consider a few of Conception's very anti-religion songs (Conception being the other super-awesome delicious band Roy Khan was part of). I mean, look at 'em: when Kamelot isn't...

+singing about some sort of vague karma, heh heh ("Karma") or Hindu-ish life cycle ("The Haunting", "Love You To Death", "Soul Society"),

+they're openly defying or denying the white male Christian god ("III Ways to Epica", "Soul Society" again, "We Are Not Separate", "Center of the Universe"),

+or taunting the audience with images of an uncaring deity ("Abandoned", "Eden Echo", "Across the Highlands", "Farewell", "Mourning Star") with an evil regent on Earth ("The Inquisitor"),

+a sympathetic demon-figure ("Descent of the Archangel", "March of Mephisto"),

+and, well, Hell ("Black Tower", "A Feast for the Vain" );

+or brandishing their own self-sufficiency ("Rise Again", "Up Through the Ashes", "The Fourth Legacy", "The Edge of Paradise", "Wings of Despair", the "Elizabeth" cycle, "Moonlight", "Anthem").

+They also have a tendency to remake Christ in purely human form ("The Human Stain", "Up Through the Ashes" again, "Birth of a Hero", "Moonlight" again).

+It should be noted that all of these apply to "Nothing Ever Dies".

Whew! Seems to me that Kamelot are a bunch of agnostics at the very least (or maybe pandeists)... Conception, on the other hand, seem to favor textbook Satanism. Their choice gems: "War of Hate", "Among the Gods", "The Promiser", "Parallel Minds", "Soliloquy", "Under a Mourning Star", "A Million Gods", "Gethsemane", "Angel", "Reach Out", and the double whammy of "My Decision"/"Missionary Man", in which any variety of religion-related topics are discussed, including false prophets and preachers, sacrifice, self-reliance and/or the setting-up of oneself as a god, denial of deity, the silliness of the sects, the possibility that Jesus kind of resented being sacrificed, and hey kids, Lucifer is your buddy!

(Kamelot also obviously has a bit of a King Arthur fetish, clearly; if the name wasn't proof enough, check out "The Shadow of Uther" and "Once and Future King", and (if you ask me) "Karma". This band really caters to my own set of obsessions.)

Free people read freely

The right to read is celebrated during the last week in September, and as we have a notably anti-intellectual freedom lady running for Vice President, I'm taking this observance as an excuse to slack off my school assigned texts and indulge in a little Pullman, a little Lawrence, a little Twain.

Here's the list for 2007:

1) “And Tango Makes Three,” by Justin Richardson/Peter Parnell

Reasons: Anti-Ethnic, Sexism, Homosexuality, Anti-Family, Religious Viewpoint, Unsuited to Age Group

2) The Chocolate War,” by Robert Cormier

Reasons: Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language, Violence

3) “Olive’s Ocean,” by Kevin Henkes

Reasons: Sexually Explicit and Offensive Language

4) “The Golden Compass,” by Philip Pullman

Reasons: Religious Viewpoint

5) “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,” by Mark Twain

Reasons: Racism

6) “The Color Purple,” by Alice Walker

Reasons: Homosexuality, Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language

7) "TTYL,” by Lauren Myracle

Reasons: Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language, Unsuited to Age Group

8) "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings,” by Maya Angelou

Reasons: Sexually Explicit

9) “It’s Perfectly Normal,” by Robie Harris

Reasons: Sex Education, Sexually Explicit

10) "The Perks of Being A Wallflower,” by Stephen Chbosky

Reasons: Homosexuality, Sexually Explicit, Offensive Language, Unsuited to Age Group

Interestingly, it seems that the emphasis has shifted from race to sex --any kind of sex. After all, everyone knows that "offensive language" and "unsuited to age group" are unimaginative code for "sexually explicit"; heck, within the context of His Dark Materials and And Tango Makes Three, "religious viewpoint" and "anti-family" are clearly indicative of sexual themes. Then again, fearing a natural human function makes almost as much sense as fearing a skin tone. I'm almost glad to see, though, that Huck Finn is hanging on at #5; however, I would venture that cries of "Racism!" are simply a veneer for the real thing fundies fear about Twain's classic: its anti-authoritarian stance. The scene when Huck, fearing for his mortal soul, writes a letter turning Jim in...and then tears it up, declaring, "All right, I'll go to hell", is, I assume, the most frightening scenario any conservative can imagine.

I'm also glad to see that people have finally left off James Joyce. Why bother attempting to ban Ulysses? Anyone who claims to have read and understood it is probably lying.

Tell your friends!

Okay, so, remember the part where Joss Whedon is God? Yeah. Reaffirmed by his new project, the online miniseries of Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog.

I mean really. Stars Neil Patrick Harris and Nathan Fillion? Check! Supervillain wannabes, evil horses, homeless folks, asshole superheroes, and laundromats? Check! Quintessentially Whedonesque one-liners and staging? Check! Musical goodness? CHECK! The series, in three acts, covers the sad tale of a would-be supervillain (Neil Patrick Harris in the title role) on the Evil League of Evil (run by aforementioned evil horse), and his many defeats, both in love (with spicy laundress Penny, played by Felicia Day) and in combat (by the "corporate tool" Captain Hammer, played by Captain Tightpants himself, Nathan Fillion). Prime singing abounds on the part of all cast members, Freeze Rays are created, tight goggles and shirts are proudly worn; Harris the villain is sympathetic, shy, and full of pipe-dreams and bad intentions, and Fillion delectably awful as the muscly jackhole Hammer--everything is here.

Whedon, because he is a compassionate deity, posted all three acts of the series for free from July 18th through July 20th, and both the series and its soundtrack are now available on iTunes, if you missed it. There'll be a DVD edition this fall, complete with any number of tasty extras, including shiny new musical numbers by the cast.

He's done it again, kids. Download it now, buy the DVD in the fall, or be like me and aim to do both, but give it up somehow for Whedon and Co. for delivering laughs, music, and heartfelt villainry in the perfect dosage.

One thing Ben Stein and Co. got correct

Evolutionary theory makes no claims about the origins of life.

Okay, that's done, now how about a million (or so) things that the so-called documentary Expelled: No Intelligence Allowed gets wrong?

Let's see--how about the selective quoting of Darwin's Descent of Man to back up the shaky link between Darwinian theory and eugenics, which happens to leave out telling and significant bits which actually show Darwin as being anti-eugenics? How about the use of the term "Darwinism" in order to sell evolutionary theory as a completely unified school of thought, despite the fact that evolutionary science is now synthesized between natural selection and genetic theory? How about the claims that no dissent against this "Darwinism" is allowed, despite the myriad arguments against various tenets, many of which often become accepted into the theories when they provide sufficient scientific data? How about the attempts to claim Intelligent Design as a science, when as something that is scientifically untestable it simply doesn't qualify? How about the disgusting and ham-handed use of Holocaust imagery? How about the creative editing of evolutionary biologists' quotes?

Face it: Expelled is irresponsible and scientifically incorrect. The teaching of Intelligent Design does not belong in science courses, because Intelligent Design is not science. Save it for comparative religion and philosophy, kids.

Homo Vasconensis (or, in which it is confirmed that Diana is a huge dork)

Anthropology may be proving the Basques right (unless you're a lumper). See, the paleontological discoveries at Sierra Atapuerca in Burgos in northern Spain are, according to their finders, a species apart from both earlier and later versions of Homo. It is purported that the skulls of Gran Dolina Boy and others are neither Homo erectus nor Homo heidelbergensis but another species: Homo antecessor, the ancestor to the neanderthal and sapiens lines.

There could be something to it; the bones identified as antecessor are the oldest yet found in Europe, save for the fascinating transitionary fossils found at Dmanisi in Georgia. Since the trendy line of thinking utilizes heidelbergensis as the probable antecedent to sapiens and neanderthalensis, the even older fossils at Atapuerca and La Gran Dolina are the logical predecessor to the heidelbergensis finds from various sites in Europe.

Well gee! Dating from 1.2m to 800,000ya, antecessor seems to live up to its name...if it isn't an offshoot of ergaster or the same species as heidelbergensis. Really, it depends on what side of the model and assignment arguments you're standing. Juan Luis Arsuaga, one of the antecessor discoverers, even claims that the species living in Spain commanded a symbolic, logical language. Associated tool findings show an Acheulian assemblage, indicating a dispersal out of Africa. Antecessor's proponents declare it to be the last common ancestor to both Neanderthals and early moderns--and thus, the ancestor to ourselves.

And look where it's located...right up there near the Basque country. Though situated in Castile-Leon, Burgos is close enough to Euzkadi's borders to be more than coincidental, don't you think? Maybe the famous Basque declaration of "first humans in Europe" isn't too far-fetched after all. I'm betting by and large that Basque anthropologists are splitters. While more of a lumper myself, I think it's about time we stopped using erectus (and by extension, ergaster and heidelbergensis) as a dumping ground. In this case, I may be willing to suspend my suspicions of carefree splitting--even if that willingness is due more to my fondness for Basque cake than paleoanthropological evidence.

Devil women

Why are all metal frontwomen so damn hot? I mean really. Most metal men aren't hot (the demigods of Kamelot excluded), so how is it that the most masculine of music genres, heavy metal, gets the most dollsome lady singers?

Cristina Scabbia, Lacuna Coil:

Anneke van Giersbergen, The Gathering:

Simone Simons, Epica:

Shannon den Adel, Within Temptation:

Tarja Turunen and Anette Olzon, once and future voices of Nightwish:

You see what I'm saying? And they can sing, too--ridiculous! Maybe it's because all the good metal comes out of Europe anyway. Good genes and all that. Hmmph.

Really awful books

I like to read so much that every now and then I read things which are terrible just so I can take a break from all the usual rhapsodizing.

So without further ado (and it is ado, people, not adieu), we have the Top Ten Books Which Make Diana's Brain Itch!

10. The Mayor of Casterbridge by Thomas Hardy. It hurts me to put this on here, because I adore Thomas Hardy, I really do. But it is so very, very awful. Man loses wife and child in a bet? What? This, I believe, was Hardy's lone delve into opium. What you should read instead: Anything else by Hardy. Really. Including his poetry.

9. Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. Again, I love Dickens to death, but, along with so many other bona fide geniuses, he's like the girl with the curl right in the middle of her forehead--when he's good he's very good, and when he's bad, he's horrid. Pip, go choke. I'd rather read about Barnaby Rudge and his blackbird. What you should read instead: Dombey and Son, Bleak House, and David Copperfield.

8. Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. I really don't like Virginia Woolf, period, and this technically is not as bad as Orlando, but both are simply exercises in egotism. People who write specifically to change the shape or style of writing are rarely my friends. What you should read instead: if you HAVE to read Woolf, To the Lighthouse.

7. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. It isn't just that her politics are loathsome; her characters are cardboard cut-outs representing ideas, and the entire work serves an agenda other than story and character development. I guess I'm old-fashioned. What you should read instead: Anything else by anyone else that isn't on this list.

6. Blood Canticle by Anne Rice. Interview is okay, Armand is pretty fun, but Blood Canticle is tripe. Actually, most of Anne Rice is angsty nonsense, albeit nonsense with hot vampire-on-vampire action. What you should read instead: Queen of the Damned.

5. The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Trashy people doing trashy things. Ugh. What you should read instead: Tender is the Night.

4. Everything Ernest Hemingway wrote ever except For Whom the Bell Tolls and A Movable Feast.

3. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger. Whine whine whine, angst angst angst, my sister is smarter than me, wonky "message" at the end. Poor little rich boy. What you should read instead: nothing by Salinger, that's for daaaaamn sure.

2. The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. I'm sorry, Matt, I really am, but I just cannot pretend to like these books any longer. Long, overweeningly descriptive, dull, long, full of bad poetry and ditties, excessive tendency to borrow from Germanic myth, long, dull, and did I mention long? What you should read instead: The Silmarillion (not even kidding).

1. The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown. And I'm not even religious! The writing is overwrought, the characters are weakly stereotypical, the plot borrowed at best, and the "facts" incorrect. Utter drivel. What you should read instead: don't read Dan Brown. Burn Dan Brown.

But is it exothermic or endothermic?

Places Hell May Be Located

- Walmart

- Any chain restaurant

- Haines City, Florida

- _________ and MLK Blvd (every city has one)

- a black hole

- a parking garage

- an apartment complex and its parking lot

I'd hit that

And then Diana failed all her classes

I have come to the conclusion that the nature of writing and authorship is cyclical, particularly in the case of C.S. Lewis and Philip Pullman. I have also concluded that I would like to have Mr. Pullman's babies.

See, His Dark Materials are pretty brilliant books and the saucy Sally Lockhart Victorian thrillers are also quite capital. But it wasn't until I read part of Thomas Huxley's Evolution and Ethics that I realized the scope of Pullman's authorial slyness. It occurred to me that perhaps C.S. Lewis had been reading Huxley while writing the third book of his Cosmic Trilogy, That Hideous Strength--the basis of Huxley's argument is that human evolution is a constant struggle with nature (he's very pro-pruning). The text of Evolution and Ethics reminded me strongly of the aims of the antagonists in That Hideous Strength; Wither, Frost, and the mad priest wish to advance the evolution of man to the point that all natural processes (food consumption, waste production, copulation and birth) are unneeded. They wish to set up Man as God: fueled by brainpower, worshiper of intellect: and to "cleanse" the Earth of erroneous life, plant and animal alike. Obviously, Lewis doesn't agree with this line of philosophy.

That actually has nothing to do with Pullman's book, not really (other than the fact that Pullman too would not want to see the Earth erased of all life but human); but thinking about the possible connection between Huxley and Lewis made me think about those people who call Pullman the "anti-Lewis". This title is due chiefly, I believe, to certain surface similarities in the two men's most famous books. The Chronicles of Narnia and His Dark Materials are indeed possessed of some plot similarities, including talking animals and a famous wardrobe scene. Also, some fundamental Christians see Pullman's books as diametrically opposed to Lewis's--the fact that Pullman kills God is a sore point. However, I think that the two sets of books are similar on deeper levels, and that the similarities (and differences which are revealed by the similarities) bring Lewis and Pullman closer than a casual glance would show.

The real meat of this is found in The Amber Spyglass. I recently reread it and the Cosmic Trilogy, and found some startling plot points in all. In The Amber Spyglass, the character of Mary Malone finds herself alone in an alien world, forced to make contact with the residents of the place--large elephant-like creatures who move on wheels. While animal, these creatures are "people": the moral and emotional equivalent of any Homo sapien. Mary learns their language and customs, and grows to love them, when another human arrives, who brings fear, hatred, and death to their world. This plotline almost exactly parallels that of Out of the Silent Planet, wherein the protagonist Ransom arrives on Mars, finds three species of life who are sentient and capable of language, science, and art, and are for all points and purposes "human". Ransom, a philologist, learns their speech and becomes very fond of one species in particular, the hrossa. As he grows to know them, two other humans with whom he had been traveling kill one of the hrossa. Altogether they refuse to regard any of the Martian inhabitants on a "human" level.

This first similarity is fairly straightforward. It is the second which makes things interesting. Pullman's Mary Malone is told that she must act as tempter (the serpent of the Bible)--for Lyra and Will, the two heroes of the story. In order for all the universes of His Dark Materials to be redeemed, the two must be tempted into what the Church would regard as sin; they must fall in love and they must realize it. Likewise, in Perelandra, the second book of Lewis's trilogy, Ransom is sent to Venus to act against the tempter who is there to make certain that Venus, like Earth, falls. Reading Lewis, you yearn for Perelandra to remain pure, paradisiacal, untainted by the diseases of mortality; reading Pullman, you plead for Mary to remain alive long enough to show Lyra and Will the way into love.

How then is it possible for the same reader to enjoy both series? For I certainly do. When I first read about Ransom and his exploits on alien worlds I was glued to the page, aching for his great good to triumph. When I read about Lyra and Will and their worlds I cheered when they realized that they loved one another and cried at their inevitable separation. The two themes of the books are seemingly disparate, but at the same time strikingly similar. I would submit that Pullman is only the "anti-Lewis" in his treatment of certain subjects. His Dark Materials is like the photographic negative of The Cosmic Trilogy--everything opposite and the same.

The kids are alright

This post was supposed to about this brilliant insight I had last night concerning Thomas Huxley, C.S. Lewis, and Philip Pullman, but that can wait, because right now, I'd rather write about the epilogue of Fargo Rock City.

Yes, I'm sorry. Once more you will be subjected to ramblings about Chuck Klosterman.

In any case, the epilogue of my favorite heavy metal examination leaves me with the wondrous, glowing feeling that I, personally, validate my one of my favorite writers. See, in this postscript Chuck mentions a book which was published at the same time as his--a little something called Our Band Could Be Your Life. Maybe you've read it. Most people (read: hipsters) have. I have. Chuck has. And the way he describes it, the aesthetics of these two styles of musicians are desperately dissimilar. Incompatible, even. The artists of Azerrad's book consciously attempt to be "important", while the bands of Klosterman's are simply concerned with being "cool". Chuck makes sure to point out, however, that the fans of these musicians are probably not that dissimilar--that kids like Black Flag for the same reason that they like Van Halen ("Man, these guys fucking rock!").

Why yes, Mr Klosterman. You are correct. At least for me.

See, not only have I read both Fargo Rock City and Our Band Could Be Your Life (numerous times each), but one actually led to the other. I read Our Band Could Be Your Life when I was fourteen, a massively uncool, reclusive ninth-grade bookworm. I loved it immediately and it made me install Kazaa on the family computer so I could download lots of Black Flag and Fugazi and Minor Threat, et cetera (Interestingly--perhaps tellingly--the only bands featured in the book which stuck with me were The Minutemen, Big Black, and Mudhoney. But that's a different story). Another group that piqued my interest, though it was merely a throwaway mention, was Queensryche.

Downloading Geoff Tate due to a sideline note in a hipster Bible led me to a fully-formed metal appreciation, which in turn made me buy Fargo Rock City.

So stick that in your juicebox and suck on it, critics the world over! Music really is simpler than you people want it to be! The same pseudo-intellectual kid who listens to Steve Albini and his thunderous drum machine can appreciate "Girls Girls Girls" (even if she is a girl). The vast, vast majority of music listeners, be their drug of choice rap, country, math rock, or glam metal, listen to their favorites for one reason: it fucking rocks.

More of a concept than a thing

Fifty Things Which Are On My Desk:

Two stellar Bose speakers, one pair of denim shorts, a Forgotten English page-a-day calendar, an ugly jar made in high school pottery, four books (A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Mrs. Dalloway, All Over but the Shoutin', and The Handmaid's Tale), a set of X-rays of my spinal cord and rib cage, a Nexium pen, a pair of jeans, a set of new car insurance cards, three months' worth of bank statements, a black skirt, a denim skirt, a black bra, an empty plastic cup, a checkbook, a thank-you card, the title of my car, a stack of comic books (Immortal Iron Fist and White Tiger), three textbooks (Images of the Past, Cultural Anthropology, and The Longman Anthology of British Literature), one yellow folder with various library call numbers written on it, the set list of a Kamelot show, a red picture frame featuring a postcard from the Victoria and Albert Museum, a sonnet written in response to Keats's "On Seeing the Elgin Marbles for the First Time", English notes from last summer, an "I trust Severus Snape" sticker, and my purse.

One Thing Which Is Not:

My computer.

Sugar and spice and everything nice

This, we know, is what little girls are made of. Little boys, likewise, are made of snakes and snails and puppydog tails, for reasons unknown.

Very nice, but more interesting is what the state of New Hampshire is made of. Dunkin Donuts and granite and vanity plates? Communist-era grocery stores and hair salons and dial-up Internet? Ski slopes and haddock on buns and bikers? Is this truly the most bizarre state in the Union? I think so-o. Containing barely one million citizens, New Hampshire ranks 41st in population and not one of these people is anything less than snowy white.

I may be exaggerating, but only slightly.

Worth noting is that New Hampshire, despite its frigid temperatures and lack of wireless, has produced a variety of famous people, including Daniel Webster (who is not who you think he is), Dan Brown (who does not deserve to be well-known), and funnyfolks Sarah Silverman and Seth Meyers. All I can think is that growing up in an Arctic environment of seasonal tourism and IGAs would turn me towards meth and teenage pregnancy, not fiery oratory, pot-boilers, and Comedy Central shows.

Honestly, it's funny how New Hampshire works. You fly into Manchester, the only international airport in the state, and think, if you're me, Wow! I'm farther north than I've ever been in the Continental United States! You then realize that your parents live four hours north of where you are currently standing. So far north, in fact, that it would have been closer for them if you had just flown into Montreal, Quebec. As you drive ever more northerly, you begin to realize why this state has so few residents. Why the place is abounding with Dunkin Donuts yet has perhaps ten movie theatres. Why black people would find it such a heinous environment to live in. Why, perhaps, the Old Man in the Mountain had the gall to finally fall down after untold years of being the main tourist attraction.

There is nothing to do here. One can only hike so much. If it is not winter, skiing, snowboarding, and tubing are not possible. The beach is not a beach, simply a shoreline. The state history is the history of every other New England state. The only places to buy alcohol are state liquor stores. If it isn't blazingly obvious, I don't have much use for New Hampshire.

One thing worth mentioning--NH will make you write. The best short story I've written thus far was set in New Hampshire. Maybe John Irving and Robert Frost are on to something.

Worst Idea Ever, Continued

All right. At my viewing of the trailer for The Dark Is Rising, I was left with the impression that it was set in America due to the American accents used by the characters (and I seem to recall some scene with a yellow bus. o.O). However, according to a SciFi.com article , the movie will be set in England (northern England, but more on that later); only the nationality of the Stanton family has been changed to American.

I am not rescinding my previous post. It was an honest reaction, and I think a valid one. However, with this new news, I simply get the leeway to rip everything else apart. And even from one trailer viewing, there is much to be ripped.

Let's start with the Stantons. Their Americanization is a bad, bad idea. Along the same lines as before, the Stantons' nationality is integral to the story. The Dark Is Rising in particular has several scenes concerning with British pride, and commentary on how Britons deal with this and that. Furthermore, the story is drenched in British mythology, particularly that of Arthur; it seems that the makers of the film version are attempting to completely modernize the story by leaving out all the history and tradition at its core. Not only that, but the family structure of the Stantons has been decimated. Will is older--13, where in the book he is 11, for a very important reason--and apparently he has been given a twin, a boy who has been in captivity by the Dark. And it gets better! Robin and Paul, two of Will's older brothers, have been transformed into grungy bullying jerks; their literary selves were, respectively, a rugby-player type who liked to sing and a dreamy, quiet boy who played the flute. Paul especially was sensitive to and defensive of Will. Then there's the warping of Max, the second-oldest brother, from an art student to a tattooed, pierced rebel. Simply put, the Stantons are unrecognizable. To turn them from a mainly happy and loyal family into a splintered, mean-spirited bunch is antithetical to the themes of the story. Will is not an outsider who needs acceptance into the ways of Britain--he only begins to feel distanced when he discovers his powers as an Old One. From then on, his path is one of learning and guidance from his masters, and the close of the series finds him wise and complete in the lore of his country.

Then there's the matter of Merriman and the other magical types in the story. Merriman is badass, it's true, but in a rumbly repressed sort of English way. HE DOES NOT WIELD A FUCKING MACE, PEOPLE. Neither does the Lady have a cane which turns into a sword if she needs to go medieval on the baddies. Hawkin is not gifted (or cursed) with eternal youth, and neither has he lost his soul. And, perhaps most trivial and at the same time most important, the Black Rider rides a black horse.

In case it's not obvious, I cannot find enough wrong with this film. I do not think I will be seeing it. I will remain content with the novels and my own vision of them. Who needs a homogenized Hollywood version where all that is recognizable is the title?

Harry Potter and the Worst Idea Ever

Actually, I'm not even sure why I used that title. This post is not about the new Harry Potter film (which was excellent, by the way. Go see it).

No, no. This post is about a trailer shown prior to Order of the Phoenix. Some Hollywood asshole has apparently seen fit to twist yet another fantasy novel into a product for Mass American Consumption. This time, the unlucky lottery winner is Susan Cooper's The Dark Is Rising.

Now, let me just say that as far as books-into-films go, I'm actually pretty forgiving. The directors of the Harry Potter films have my love, as does Peter Jackson, and The Princess Bride is possibly even better than its source material. But this travesty has passed into unforgivable territory, by merit of a seemingly-simple decision: to move the setting from Britain to America.

For non-readers, a quick summary--The Dark Is Rising is the second book of the series of the same name, chronicling the journey of several children (and specifically Will Stanton) toward an epic battle between Dark and Light. Instances of British mythology and lore are used, and on the whole the books are smaller-scale than, say, Tolkien's; the battles take place on eye-level, between opposing personal wills rather than grand armies, and every place location is used for an exact purpose. Cooper doesn't toss her characters into Cornwall or North Wales or Buckinghamshire because the country's pretty--they're there because the grail is hidden in Cornwall, because Arthurian legends have roots in Wales, because Herne the Hunter has no American equivalent.

And here we have an American director, dreaming that it'll be okay to move inherently British characters to the United States. Imagining that the story will still sing; that no viewer will feel anything awry; that a tale so British can be Americanized--modernized, even, for the novels were published in the Seventies and, though not exactly dated, still feel like that time period.

The Dark Is Rising is at its core a love poem to Britain and uniquely British legend and setting and feeling. It cannot, cannot exist in another country. Who would even consider moving Hogwarts to New York City? This film adaptation of Susan Cooper's book suggests a complete lack of care for the source material--an insult to both author and fans. Moreover, the looks of this first film indicate that the rest of the books will not be filmed. Perhaps I should say that the looks of this first film make Cooper fans pray that the rest of the books will not be filmed, because who among us could stand seeing Over Sea, Under Stone and Greenwitch ripped from Cornwall and transplanted into Cape Cod, or The Grey King and Silver on the Tree failing to flourish in, say, Montana?

Someone at Walden Media (incidentally, the people who brought us the similarly-enraging Bridge to Terabithia) is grievously mistaken in their belief that Susan Cooper's settings don't matter. No one can say of her books "the plot's the thing" and ignore the locales. From Kemare Head to Huntercombe, from Tywyn to Greythorne Manor, from Aberdyfi to Stanton Farm to Tal y Lyn and Mount Badon, The Dark Is Rising inextricably intertwines character and plot with setting, resulting in a seamless, truly British whole. This American film version, this shift from specifically British locations to Anywhere, America, is an indignity to the writer and the readers who loyally and lovingly read and reread.

Way down upon the Ochlocknee River

A pair of text messages from me to my best friend, en route to Tallahassee from Tampa:

I think we're in Tallahassee, but I'm not sure.

Five minutes pass.

Oh, wait! That's the Capitol building.

This should tell you something about Florida's capital city, namely, that it does not deserve to be the capital of our glorious state. Bah.

Girl who sings blues buys stairway to Heaven

"I've noticed that no one changes the station when "American Pie" comes on; they always listen to the whole thing and sing along with the chorus. However, almost no one listens to "Stairway To Heaven" all the way through." (Chuck Klosterman, Killing Yourself to Live, p. 144, middle paragraph)

Now how true is that? I know it's true for me. I, for unfathomable reasons, am quite fond of "American Pie". I listen to it every time it comes on the classic rock station in my car, and I sing along to all of it, not just the chorus. "Stairway to Heaven", however, is horrendous. When it comes on The Bone, I flip the station, then switch it back when I know the almost-end is coming up. I don't like 85% of "Stairway to Heaven" but I do like the bit which begins with "And as we wind on down the road".

I like Led Zeppelin, though. And I don't like Don McClean. Long-haired, side-pipe-rocking, Aleister Crowley-channeling Brits are way better than middle American everymen who write tributes to Fred Astaire and Vincent Van Gogh. So how come I can't stand most of "Stairway to Heaven" but know every word to "American Pie"? It's not like I have any visceral reaction or attachment to either song. Both are exceptionally overplayed and overrated by nearly every classic rock station in the US. Both pretend to be important and neither really succeeds. And I bet if you tried to play the opening bars of "American Pie" in a music shop, the bassist from Slaughter would rush up and stop you.

What was my point again?

Yes.

I am convinced that the title of that famous Nazareth song is the result of a typo on the part of a mostly-illiterate typesetter who thinks that "heir" and "hair" are homonyms.

I am also convinced that the narrator of the Fall Out Boy song "Sugar We're Going Down Swingin'" is a gay man.

The books of the hour versus the books of all time

God bless you, Mr Vonnegut.

In other literary news (if literary can be used with regards to this next), Dan Brown has won a lawsuit against some Brit writers who say he stole their ideas and turned them into the worst best-seller ever.

All I can say is, can the literate free world sue Dan Brown for stealing hours of our time and Godknowshowmuch of our money?

Here come the Swedes with a clang and a bang

Thanks to Dooce, a website I shouldn't even read because it means that I'm a bad Mormon and on the road to apostasy (...well), I am presenting you with a few of the greatest TV ads ever created:

And of course

they're all for

Ikea.

Those Swedes, man, they really know how to do it right. I mean, let's think about this. Sweden has produced, in the history of its being, stellar musical acts such as Abba, Roxette, and Yngwie Malmsteen, delicious meatballs, Greta Garbo, Ingrid Bergman, and Bjorn Borg, cute little Uppsalan gnomes, and of course, Ikea. Clearly the main export of Sweden is rump-kicking coolness.

PS: I will marry whoever can tell me where I got the title of this post. Cheers!

Service du jour

This article was of some interest to me, given that I work in the food service industry. I don't wait--I host--but of course I work closely with both customers and servers, and have ample opportunity to observe what people would consider to be "good" and "bad" restaurant experiences.

However, the article seems to focus mainly on the relationship between customer and server, forgetting that there are other factors needed to ensure a pleasant dining experience. Given that, I decided to add some things.

1. The customer is not always right. Sometimes the customer is dead wrong (see #3, 4). Sometimes the server/host/busser/manager is perfectly entitled to choke said customer into submission, although one rarely takes this opportunity (pesky job security).

2. It's almost never the server's fault. Really the only time it IS the server's fault is if they, personally, screw up your order--as in, they write down/deliver a Mushroom Cheeseburger instead of a Turkey-Pastrami Melt. If your food is cold or takes forever in getting to you, it's more than likely the kitchen's fault.

3. The manager can do nothing if the restaurant doesn't serve breakfast all day and you feel like French toast. The decision to serve breakfast until whenever is not even the general manager's to make, and once the kitchen closes a certain section, why should they reopen it simply because your brat wants an egg sandwich? Make him one yourself, bitch. Or go to Denny's.

4. When the host tells you to sit somewhere, sit there. Don't point to an empty booth and say, "That booth's empty. Why can't I sit there?" The host generally has good reasons for seating you in a certain spot. If you demand a booth when she wants to give you a table, she'll probably seat you in the booth directly adjacent to the bathroom.

5. Don't whine at the prospect of a fifteen-minute wait. It's not that long, really. Go to the Cheesecake Factory and wait for an hour, then come to my restaurant and be grateful for fifteen minutes. Also, it's not the hostess's fault that the restaurant is full; she can't exactly tell people to leave so that you can sit down.

6. If you want to people-watch while you're eating, eat outside. Duh? The laziness of people confronted with the lack of outside wait staff is incredible. Don't say, "Oh, if there's no service outside I'll eat inside" and then proceed to whine when there doesn't happen to be a window seat available.

7. Don't camp. Order your food, eat your food, pay the check, leave: this is the proper order of restaurant dining. Sitting and talking at your table for nigh on three hours is not a permissible guilty pleasure; it's rude. The longer you sit, the fewer tables there are available in the restaurant and the less money your server makes.

8. TIP, DAMMIT. If you can afford to pay eight dollars for a sandwich, you can afford to leave a decent tip. Ever wonder why apparently all servers smoke, and smoke a lot? $2 on a six-person bill will do that to a person.

This all seems fairly petty, but when you get right down to it, restaurants are a luxury, not a necessity; I think America has forgotten this. As such, give and take is required on both sides--it's senseless to blame a "bad" dining experience on one person. I mean, hey...you could've cooked your own meal, and it probably would have been better anyway.

The Big Three

Of the week, anyway. Since apparently I'm going to be the last person in the free world to see 300, I have to blog about other movies instead.

1. Hot Fuzz: All right, I think we can agree that anything containing Steve Coogan, Bill Nighy, Martin Freeman, and Jim Broadbent is clearly comedy gold. Plus, have you ever interacted with a British cop? OH YEAH AND, this film's by the makers of Shaun of the Dead. Nothing more need be said, amirite?

2. The Lookout: Now here we have one of my perennial favorites, ever since he was on Third Rock: Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Not to mention somehow he's morphed from lanky-haired awkward goofball into sssssizzle, with acting skills to boot. And hey, everyone likes guns, bank robbery, and Jeff Daniels!

3. Stewart the Duck: These here ditties are a little off the radar--okay, a lot off the radar--but they ought to be YouTube heroes. Would-be viral phenoms Tom, Jason, and Co. spoof, cavort, mock the Army, and eat Cheetos in excellent good fun. Go comment!

Ta-da!

I JUST SPLIT AN INFINITIVE, PEOPLE.

Dude. I've always wanted to do that without meaning to (clearly I'm already great at dangling participles). I can cross #13 off my list of Things To Do Before I Die.

Now to move on to Hugh Jackman.

The old razzle-dazzle

Am I the only one bored enough to be insulted by the lack of creativity abounding in articles about celebrities? Has anyone else noticed the strange circularity of the vocabulary used in fashion, movie, and music writing?

Well...probably. Anyhow, here are my top three most-overused terms in celebulary:

buttery: adj. used to describe the hair of every blonde female from Gwyneth Paltrow to Anna Nicole Smith to Kate Winslet to Helen Mirren. In other words, as long as it's some shade of blonde, it's 'buttery'. Ex: 'Reese sets off her orchid-tinted outfit with buttery but flyaway-topped tresses...' (MSN Oscars 2007: Undressed!)

pop: v. basically, spot-coloring. Anything from clothing to makeup to jewels to shoes can 'pop'. Ex: 'Choose lip colors that are natural...for a pop of color.' (MSN Shopping: Expert Makeup Advice)

chanteuse: n. any female singer ever. Genre not an issue. Ex: 'McLachlan isn't the only modern-rock chanteuse to throw her red felt hat into the ring this year...' (MSN Music)

On second thought, maybe the writers at People own a dictionary--clearly MSN is most responsible for these semantic crimes. They, too, give me my honorable mentions: modish and snaggle-toothed (oddly, both are usually used to describe Kirsten Dunst). I guess the moral of the story is, read what your Brit Lit professor assigns you and skip the famous people.

Le sigh

I confess that I am baffled. First, there's this, a New Yorker article about Joel Surnow, the creator of the cult TV show 24. Now, I have never seen this show and probably never will, so that means I'm unbiased, right? Or maybe it means I have no right saying what I'm about to say: that this show seems ridiculous, I can't see how it has so many fans, and how on Earth is it winning Emmys for portraying acts such as the ones detailed in this article?

However, 24 is not really the point. The point is, Joel Surnow, the "right-wing nut job" himself, apparently wants to make a pro-McCarthy movie...a movie which depicts McCarthy as an "American hero". All I can think of when I consider this hypothetical film is, Huh? I didn't know there WERE pro-McCarthyists! I didn't know that being anti-McCarthy was a liberal point of view--I thought it was an I'm-not-psycho point of view! Geez, people; the guy was crazy. He was a demagogue and he did imprison and blacklist and otherwise ruin the lives of plenty of people, some of whom were only guilty of occasionally wearing red lipstick. "It's not a movie I could get done now," Surnow says, and me oh my am I glad.

Then, there's the weensy fact that Bridge to Terabithia is getting good reviews. 74% positive on Metacritic and 85% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, to be exact. I can only conclude that none of the critics have actually read the book. Bah. Am I actually going to have to see this film??

ITP: BOOBS

My logical side knows that hypocrisy is not a crime. If it were, what would we do for government leaders? They would all have life sentences. However, things like this completely dispense with my logical, rational, equitable side and bring out the roaring feminist within.

Actually, scratch that. This is not about feminism. This is about common sense. I'm not a feminist, and I don't have a lot of common sense, but I have enough to know that a mother breastfeeding her baby is not exactly a situation for lawsuits. Futhermore, this is America. Breasts are big business. They're everywhere, from movies to billboards to music videos to magazines dirty and otherwise. It is sheer hypocrisy to label a mother feeding her infant as 'indecent' or 'lewd' when more than half of the nation's population looks at tots daily. Where is these people's shame? To claim that 'men don't know what to do or where to look when a woman is breast-feeding in front of them' is sick and should be seen as such. Look at her face, you drooling idiot! Try and act like your IQ is higher than your sperm count. There is nothing, nothing sexual about a mother feeding her child, and there is no reason that men should feel awkward. A good chunk of them were breast-fed, I expect, and another sizable bunch see their wives' or girlfriends' breasts every day. Celebrities in Hollywood blockbusters flaunt their double-Ds all over the movie screen, yet an infant receiving its breakfast is despicable and should be hidden? Lame.

Another aspect of this situation is that many of the people taking offense are women. Does that make sense, or am I just old-fashioned? Why would women be taken aback by the sight of something that they personally possess? One of these women commented on a magazine cover which used a photograph of a nursing baby; she said, I don't want my husband or son to accidentally see a breast they don't want to see. From this woman's comment, can we assume that she and her husband have never seen one another unclothed? And she better not believe that her son's never seen boobies, 'cause that's just wishful thinking.

Certainly, it's preferable to find a private place to feed your kid. But if that's not possible, and often it isn't, what's more annoying: a screaming baby or the possibility of the public seeing something 99% of them have already seen, numerous times? Come on. No one in this country can grow up without seeing tots, and lots of them--girls have them, boys like to look at them. It's stupid to say otherwise, and it's hypocritical to pretend offense when a woman breast-feeds her infant in a public place. Our society sees breasts as sexual, but that same society is what has turned breasts into fantasy objects. Breasts are there for a purpose, and that purpose is to feed children. Deal with it or go find a nice cave, you self-righteous Puritans.

Kicking butt, spraining ankles

Despite my slow-but-sure assimilation into the world of comic books (zomg Immortal Iron Fist!), I still have one problem with the whole shebang.

The women. No, I'm not going to go off on some feminist rant about how no comic artist has ever drawn a less than modelesque superheroine/villainess--you have to be a feminist to write things like that, for one thing. My problem does lie partly in their appearances, but I don't really care that they're all apparently 42-39-56. I care more that they seem to save/destroy the world while wearing thigh-high stiletto boots, white lingerie (I mean...come on. White? Clearly written by a man), and generally scanty outerwear which would, in a realistic situation, provide not-very-much protection. And they overwhelmingly have long, flowing hair.

The innate sexism in comics aside, this is just stupid. If I were fighting an opponent, particularly a male opponent who is theoretically larger and stronger than me, I would much rather be wearing, say, very lightweight Kevlar. NOT Spandex, NOT leather, and certainly nothing as exposing as the White Queen's typical gear (hello? That bare midriff is just begging to be stabbed). I can sort of understand why everything is so skintight; excess fabric gets in the way, I suppose (although I also suppose it might soak up some impact)--plus, a gal's gotta be able to move. But this is the Marvel universe, where S.H.I.E.L.D. can create fabric that never rips, shows bloodstains, or even bags at the knees! Surely they can come up with some sort of flexible body armor. Also, may I point out how impossible it is to run while wearing heels? No woman of any sense would choose heeled shoes as part of her alter ego's costume.

Then there's the matter of the hair. Back to this hypothetical fight--the dude I'm fighting, he wants to win. And we all know that no one (except maybe Captain America) fights clean. Seriously guys, it's not just a chick-fight thing. If my hair's waist-length, a man's going to do the same thing a woman would do: Yank all that hair flapping around in his face. It hurts to have your hair pulled, people know this, and in a fight, they're going to do whatever it takes to win. Who would give their opponent an extra weapon against them? Not to mention that hair also gets in the way of whosever head it's on...in the middle of a nasty fight, I want my peripheral vision to be free and clear.

So, my point is--I know that comics aren't real, that their unreality is at least half the coolness and fun, that the appeal of Emma Frost and Natasha Romanoff is that no real woman actually resembles them--but for goodness sake! At least give our heroines and villainesses a pair of sneakers!